We stared at one another, frankly astonished to learn that Berry’s fantastic explanation was founded strictly upon fact.

“Did the clergyman get his own back?” said I.

“Yes, sir.  ’Ere it was in the ’all.”

Apparently neither the porter nor the divine had any idea of the abuse to which the latter’s wideawake had been put.

“Oh, well, our friend’ll be in presently,” said Jonah, taking the Homburg.  “When he comes, tell him we’ve got his hat and are having tea.”

“Very good, sir.  You see there’s a note there, sir?  The reverend wrote it ’ere.  I think ’e was ‘opin’ to ave seen your gentleman and told ’im ’ow sorry ’e was, but when ’e ’card ’e was out, ‘e sits down an’ writes ’im a letter.  ’E was in a state.”

“Poor man,” said Daphne, following after Jonah.  “After all, there’s no harm done.”

“It was a near thing,” said I.  “But for my brain-wave——­”

“Nonsense,” said Daphne, “I got him away.”

“To be candid,” said Jonah, “if anybody’s to get a mention, I’m inclined to think it should be Mr. Lewis.”

While we were waiting for tea, I read the letter aloud.

SIR,

I can never adequately express my regret for the distressing, if momentary, aberration unhappily responsible for my appropriation of a hat which in no way resembles my own.

I dare entertain no hope that inconvenience has not resulted to you, but I beg that you will accept, first, my fervid assurance that it was not of industry, but of case that I offended, and, secondly, my most humble apologies for the commission of so unfriendly a gest.

I am, Sir,

Your obedient Servant,

LUKE ST J. BILDEW, B.D.

When I had finished—­

“I don’t understand half of it,” said Jill.

“I confess it needs annotating, but it’s worth keeping, for it’s the real thing, my dear—­a human document.  You see, Oxford is the most wonderful backwater in the world, but—­it’s a backwater.”

“And if you stay in it always,” said Agatha, “and never come out into the stream——­”

“You are liable to take the wrong hat and to write letters that would be the better for footnotes.”

Berry arrived with the tea.

In silence he received his own hat, compared it with one which he had just purchased, and then handed the latter to the waiter.  In silence he read Mr. Bildew’s note.  In silence he selected a piece of bread and butter and sank into a chair.

“I can’t bear it,” said Daphne.  “Where’s Mr. Lewis?”

“Happily he decided to catch a train twenty minutes ago.  Otherwise it would have been murder.  I should have pleaded guilty to manslaughter, committed under extreme provocation.  That man oughtn’t to be allowed.  I suppose you forgot to go to New College.  Yes, just so.”

“And the coal?” said I.  “Have you fixed that up?”